Dart & Wil: The Early Years
by Iasonas
Summary: Some back story on how Dart and Wil started out. Pretty self explanetory. A continuation of my quest to put more Dart stories out there. Chapter five is here, with a Johnny Depp induced flash of inspiration.
1. Chapter 1: Two Runaways and a Dream

Ok, so _technically_ speaking, Wil and Dart were about seventeen in FE7, which would _technically_ speaking, make them about twelve when this story takes place. But since that's just stupid, I've decided to make full use of my poetic licence and make them about sixteen. Don't like it? Well then go find another Dart/Wil back-story fanfic. Oh wait, I forgot, there are none. And for those not in the know, Dan is Dart.

* * *

Chapter 1: Two Runaways and a Dream

They struck out by moonlight, with nothing more than their small packs and high dreams. They were both no more than sixteen, but they had left their old life behind, and swore never to return until they had made something of their lives.

They came from a small town, where nothing ever happened. They would listen wide-eyed to tales of adventure, of knights and damsels from passing travellers. But they never saw anything of that sort in their sleepy town. So it was that they decided to set out on an adventure of their own. If excitement wouldn't come to them, then they would just have to go out and find it.

They were an odd pair to look at. The one on the right was small and wiry, with short, dark red hair. Over his shoulder hung a small hunting bow. His companion was much taller, already well on the way to becoming a man. He was barrel-chested, with big burly arms. On his back was the bag that contained their few worldly possessions and enough food to last a week.

They had been walking for some time before the smaller of the two spoke up.

"Ok Dan, I think we've covered enough ground. They'll never think to search this far."

His friend sat down on the cool grass to the side of the road.

"Of course they'll never find us Wil. The best tracker in the all of Pherae is standing right in front of me."

Wil laughed.

"Ha, don't you know it," laughed Wil, flashing a grin.

The next morning dawned far to quickly for the two runaways. But they were soon back on the road, eager to put as much distance as they could between them and their former homes. They walked in silence; both lost in their thoughts, trying to wrap their heads around what they had just done.

It was Dan that spoke first.

"Are you sure about we're doing Wil? I mean-"

"Don't start thinking like that, Dan. We did what we did, it's too late to change that."

"I know, but we left so much behind..." said Dan, his thoughts turning to his younger sister Rebecca.

"_We left so much behind? _That was the whole reason we left that village. Because there was nothing there!"

"So there's nothing you regret leaving behind?"

Wil hesitated momentarily. His thoughts also turned to Dan's sister. He was doing this for her sakes, he told himself. He would return one day, a man.

"Nothing," came Wil's reply. "Don't forget the plan Dan. We're going to get to Badon. From there, we hop on a ship, and sail our way to fortune."

"Ha, you're right buddy," said Dan, thoughts of his family starting to fade.

"We're going to be so rich, we're gonna have to hire people to count all that money."

"And we'll eat seven course meals everyday."

"And all of our clothes will be made of silk."

They continued down the path, each one trying to out do the other in the extravagances they would indulge in, once they were rich and famous.

* * *

That night found the two young men camping by moonlight once again. They both sat staring into the fire.

"Wil, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. You know, about giving up."

"Don't worry about it Dan. I guess I might have second thoughts if I were you. I mean, you've got a loving family, you're dad's the town magistrate, and Rebecca..." he trailed off. He snapped out of it, and continued on. "My father probably hasn't even noticed I'm gone..."

"Hey come on Wil, you know that's not true. You're parents love you just as much as mine."

Wil snorted in contempt.

"You know what? I think we should turn in. We have to get started early."

And with that, Wil laid down, his back to both Dan and the fire.

* * *

The fire had burned itself out by the next morning, as well as their argument. They continued on the path, as if nothing had happened.

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the birds were singing. As they walked, Dan began to finger the golden chain on his neck. It was easily the most valuable thing they had between them. It was a family keepsake, and he played with it whenever he was feeling particularly homesick.

Wil eyed him warily. He didn't like the way Dan played with it out in the open. It attracted too much attention. But he kept his mouth shut; he didn't want to start fight over something silly like that.

The forest they had been walking through gave way to wide rolling plains. Badon and the open sea were still a long way off, but they couldn't help but hope to see a glimpse of water every time they crested a hill.

After some time, they did find some water, but of a different kind. They came to a wide, swift-moving river which was spanned by a broad wooden bridge. They weren't half across, when out of nowhere popped half a dozen bandits on either side. They were surrounded.

A particularly ugly man stepped forward. His hair was thin and straggly; his face, scarred and pockmarked. His left eye bulged out and there were large gaps in his broken smile.

"Look wot liddle pretties hav' gone an' wandered on to our bridge boys. They must not know 'bout our toll, hmm?"

The rest of the bandits broke out laughing, their loud cackles splitting the air.

"Hey Brago," said one of the underlings, "take a look at dat neckwiss da big'un is wearin'. It's awful pretty like."

Wil tried not to show his fear as he drew an arrow onto his bow.

"We're not giving you thieves anything," he declared loudly. This was met with even more laughing.

"You call tha' liddle thing a bow? Hahaha, I've seen wasps wiv bigger arrers than dat!"

Wil glanced down at his bow and arrow. He cursed inwardly. The bow was meant for hunting rabbits, not fighting bandits.

"Shouldn't you boys be off wiv yer muvvers?" more laughter.

Dan scowled and flexed his muscles.

"Say that again you scoundrel, and we'll see who laughs last."

"The boy don't even have a weapon, an' he finks he can take us. I dunno whether he's brave, or jus' plain stupid," said Brago, further incensing Dan.

All of a sudden there came the thunderous pounding from the direction Will and Dan had come. Everyone turned to see a lone horseman charging towards them.

"Boss, it looks like a bleedin' knight!" said another underling, sounding worried.

"Stay yer ground ye worthless mongrels. It's jus' one knight, an there's six o' us. There's nuthin' t' be worried 'bout."

The lone rider came to halt at the foot of the bridge, and Wil and Dan couldn't help but stare in open-mouthed awe. Standing in front of them was an honest to goodness knight in shining armour, riding a white horse. It was as if one of the stories they had grown up on was coming to life before their eyes.

He was a very stern looking man, with short purple hair. His armour was pale orange.

He spoke first.

"What are you rogues doing with those children?" he demanded. Dan bristled at the mention of the word 'children'.

"We wasn't doin' nuthin guvna'. We was jus' havin' a friendly chat, tha's all," said the lead bandit, Brago, with an air of mock innocence.

The knight looked over Brago before snorting in contempt. From the scabbard at his side he withdrew a large sword and pointed it at Brago.

"Remove yourselves from this bridge, lest I do it for you."

"Ha!" laughed Brago. "I always thought you knights was smart, but I s'pose you never learned to count. Y'see, there's six of us, an' only o' you."

"Please, if you wish to test your theory, by all means, I invite you to try. One mounted knight is worth ten untrained brigands," he said matter-of-factly.

"Get 'im!" yelled Brago, and the two closest bandits charged at the waiting knight.

Wil watched as the two jumped up into the air, axes raised high over their heads. He saw two quick flashes of silver, and then watched as they fell to the ground in a heap, their bodies lifeless.

The knight sheathed his word and waited.

That was more than any of the other bandits had bargained for when they had set their sights upon two defenceless boys. Their resolve quickly disappeared and they jumped into the river, swimming as fast as they could.

Brago looked around him. He was alone now, and had no intention of throwing his life away at the hands of this knight.

He scowled at the two young men, and said,

"You boys are lucky that yer knight came and saved yer hides. This ain't finished!" and with that he too jumped into the fast flowing river.

Wil and Dan were left standing in front their saviour, unsure of what to say.

The knight spoke.

"You boys are awfully young to be travelling alone. What are your names?" he asked, giving them an appraising look.

"We're not boys!" snapped Dan.

"And you're certainly not men. Now answer the question. What are your names?"

"I'm Wil and my friend there is named Dan," said Wil, taking charge. "Who're you?"

"I'm am Sir Marcus of Pherae."

"We're from Pherae too!" said Dan excitedly. Wil cursed silently beside him.

"Pherae?" said Marcus, raising his eyebrows. "That is many days from here. What business do you have so far from home?"

"We're orphans," lied Wil, hoping that Dan would catch on. "We figured we might as well try our luck in Badon."

"So, you two are seeking the mercenary life? What arms do you posses?"

Wil held up his hunting bow and gave a weak smile.

"Hmph. That toy is better suited to hunting badgers than bandits. And you," he said, turning his attention to Dan, "have you no weapon?"

Dan shook his head.

Marcus sighed.

"Come here boy, and take this axe. You seem well suited to it." He took a small axe from his side and handed it to Dan. Dan took it gratefully and gave a few swings before placing in his belt.

"So Marcus-"

"_Sir_ Marcus"

"Sir Marcus," continued Wil, "seeing as how we seem to be heading in the same direction, perhaps... maybe we could accompany you? You know, if you're not busy..." he trailed of into silence under Marcus' grim stare.

"What my business is, is of no great import to you. I have already dawdled far to long babysitting you two. If you have no more questions, I will be off."

They both stood there at a loss for words. They moved to the side to make way for Marcus and his horse. The knight turned back one more time.

"One more thing boy," he said looking once again at Dan, "a word of advice. Badon is a dangerous place. You would do well to hide that chain of yours. It attracts thieves like moth to a flame." And with that he was gone, galloping away into the horizon.

Dan hastily stuffed the gold chain into his pocket and smiled sheepishly.

"You know what Wil? I don't think we ever thanked him for saving us."


	2. Chapter 2: Badon Beckons

Chapter 2: Badon Beckons 

They stood before the walled gates of the city in the dying light of dusk.

"You go first," said Wil.

"After you," said Dan.

"Ok, on three then. One...two...THREE!" 

They closed their eyes and charged forward, not stopping until they felt the packed dirt turn to cobblestones under their feet. They opened their eyes slowly.

"Do you realise where we are Dan? We're in Badon!" shouted Wil. Dan gave a great whoop. They stood around laughing, until a passing robed figure shushed them loudly.

They stopped and looked around sheepishly. It was only then that they realised that something was not quite right.

"Uh...Wil, are you sure this is the right place? I mean, I always heard that Badon was full of drunken sailors at this time of day. But it's totally deserted."

Dan was right. It looked like they had entered a ghost town. Not a soul stirred. The lights in all the buildings were dark.

They began to walk around, in hopes of finding an inn to stay the night. The plan had been to stay in Badon until they found a ship to carry them to their fortune. What would they do if they couldn't find a place?

They walked around, looking for any signs of life. They had been walking for what seemed like forever when they stumbled across what was probably the only open inn in Badon. Light spilled through the large bay window out onto the sidewalk. They could just make out the words on the sign that hung above the doorway.

"The Blue Mermaid? It'll have to do," said Wil, and they headed inside.

The bar was empty, save for the innkeeper, who stood behind the counter, slowly polishing a glass. He looked up at them, and gave them a quizzical glance. He was a grizzled old man with an eye-patch over one eye.

"What 'er you what?" he rasped.

"Um... well...uh... we were kinda wondering whether you had any spare rooms... you know... for us to rent..." said Wil, trying to avoid staring at the man's missing eye.

"You pups got some nerve, waltzin' in here all la dee da and askin' fer a room on a night like tonight," spat the old man.

They weren't sure what he meant by 'night like tonight', and they weren't about to ask either.

"So... you don't have a room for us?"

"Course I gots a room for ye. Why else d'ye think I'm open t'night?" he shook his head slowly. "You young 'uns these days. Don't know nuthin' 'bout nobody," he muttered to himself.

Dan couldn't help himself. He had to ask.

"Um, sir? What exactly is so special about tonight? I mean the town is des..." he trailed off under the glowering stare from the innkeeper.

"Do ye mean to tell me that you don't know what day it is t'day?" he asked incredulously. Wil and Dan shook their heads. "Did your muvvers never teach you nuthin'? Today's the eve of St. Elmine's birth, ye worthless whelps. That means no meats, spirits, contact with blood, or women fer another twenty four hours. Though by the looks of ye, I don't think y'have t' worry 'bout the last one." He wandered off in to a back room, chuckling to himself.

"Has it really been a month already?" asked Wil.

"Ha, we sure know how to time it, eh? The one day of the year that Badon settles down, and here we are. That's just bad luck, that is," said Dan playfully.

The innkeeper emerged from the back room with a key. He walked with a large hobble, and when he came out from behind the counter, they could see that he was also sporting a peg leg.

Dan couldn't resist.

"Uh, sir? You don't own a parrot, do you?" he said, trying not laugh.

"He died three weeks ago," said the innkeeper, eyeing them suspiciously. "Why'd you ask?"

* * *

The remnants of their breakfast lay before them. It had been a meagre meal, to say the least. The innkeeper had refused to sell them any meat or eggs, instead handing them half a loaf of old, crusty bread.

"Ok Dan, we have to talk," said Wil, all business. "We're broke. We spent the last of our money on our room last night."

"I see."

"I thought we would go out and look for some work today, but the innkeeper said that most folks won't be out today, and even if they were we'd still have probably have some trouble finding work around here."

"So what's the plan then?"

"Before you say anything, let me finish, ok? Here me out. I was thinking that you could sell your necklace-"

"Not gonna happen Wil. Forget it."

"But Dan-"

"Not a chance said," said Dan holding firm.

"We don't have a choice!"

"Look, you just don't get it, do you? This thing isn't just some hunk of gold. It means something to me."

"I know Dan, but what choice do we have? We have no money. We might as well just turn around and head home with our tails between our legs, if you're going to be like that."

"Well you know what Wil? That might not be such a bad idea after all."

"What!"

"I've been thinking a lot lately, ever since the bridge actually, that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I mean you heard that knight. This isn't some game. We almost died out there."

Wil couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Listen to yourself Dan! What happened to our grand adventure?"

"What did happen to it Wil? We've been out here a month, and if anything we're even poorer than when we started. I'm starting to think that leaving home was a huge mistake."

"I can't believe you're saying this Dan. I thought we were in this together until the end. I never thought you would quit on me..."

"Yeah... well... I guess you were wrong," said Dan, looking away. He got up, and headed for the door. "See you around."

Wil buried his head in his arms. How could everything be going so wrong?

* * *

Dan stormed out of the inn in to the sunlight. How could Wil possibly ask him to sell his necklace? He took it out of his pocket and stared at it as he walked. Didn't he realise what it stood for?

He had been walking head down, following wherever his feet took him for some time. He looked up and almost gasped. The sea stretched before him, vast and infinite. He had seen a lake or two, sure but nothing like this. He sat down on the wharf, his legs dangling over the edge, the green water swelled beneath him.

He fingered the gold chain in his hand. It was decided, he thought. He would head home, whether Wil came or not.

His thoughts were interrupted by voices behind him.

"Well, well, well. Look wot we 'ave here boys. It looks like a widdle baby wot's lost its mommy! Hahaha."

Dan's throat tightened at the sound of that voice.

"You didn't fink you'd seen the last of Brago, did ye boy?"

Dan stood up, and turned around slowly. He was completely surrounded. Directly in front of him stood Brago, clutching a large wooden bat.

"What do you want?" demanded Dan, trying to sound calm and in charge.

"Payback, that's wot. An' this time, there ain't gonna be no knight to save ye!" Brago's men burst out laughing.

Dan's mind raced furiously.

"Don't you no what day it is today? You're not supposed to-"

Brago spat at Dan's feet.

"Boy, do we look like the type wot would care 'bout that nonsense? We're already off t' hell, so's we figure what's the worse that could happen? Right boys?" more laughter.

Dan made his move. While the bandits were laughing he bowled through them and made his break for it. He didn't get more than three steps when he felt a sharp thud against the back of his head. He collapsed to the ground and blacked out.

* * *

Dan opened his eyes slowly. He hurt all over. He tried to move his arms, but found he couldn't. He could see the blood pooled around him.

He saw a pair of feet walking briskly by, and then another.

"Help..." he said feebly, his voice barely audible, before passing out again.

* * *

Dan woke to the sound of voices.

"Damned conventions! 'Ow longs the boy been layin' there?"

"At least since morn, Cap'n."

"Arr... it's a miracle the boy's even alive. You, help me pick 'im up, he's a big 'un."

Dan felt himself being picked up, but was too weak to do anything. He looked up at his captor's face. He was a big man, with a broad, scarred face and bushy grey beard.

"Not... a boy..." Dan managed to gasp.

"Har, looks like this 'uns gots some spirit in 'im. Hush now matey, you're in good hands."

Dan obliged him, slipping back into unconscious.

* * *

Dan awoke once again. He looked around himself, bleary-eyed. He was in a small, dark room lying on a wooden table. He sat up and stretched his arms. He was sore all over, but at least he could move.

"Har, so yer alive after all, eh?"

"Dan whirled his head around, looking for the source of the voice. He found it in the corner. It belonged to the man who had rescued Dan earlier. He stood next to a small, wizened old man who sat on a stool.

"Allow me t' introduce meself. I'm the famed sailor, and captain o' the good ship Davros. Me name's Captain Fargus. This ol' thing here is Ol' Jack. Now tell me matey, what be yer name?"

Dan opened his mouth to speak, but was shocked to discover that he didn't know his own name.

"What's wrong lad? Cat's got yer tongue? Speak!"

"I... I don't know..."

Fargus and Ol' Jack exchanged confused looks.

"What d' ye mean ye don't know? What kind o' mangy sea dog don't even know 'is own name?" said Fargus, starting to get a little annoyed.

"I...I can't remember anything," said Dan, wracking his brain, trying to figure who he was, and how he had gotten here.

"Amnesia," said the old man, speaking for the first time.

"What's that you say, greybeard?" asked Fargus.

"I said, amnesia. Tha's wot's it called when a fella' can't remember nuthin'."

"Amnesia, ye say? Hmm. Is that what you have boy? Amnesia?"

"I-I guess so," he stammered, growing nervous under Fargus' piercing stare.

"Well then what's the last thing ye remember lad? Think hard now," said Fargus.

"I- I remember being attacked... I think. I was lying there for so long..." Dan trailed off.

"Har, well boy, ye chose a fine day t' go an' get yerself smashed up; the one day o' the year when we're forbidden to come into contact with blood. We picked you up right at the stroke of midnight, we did," said Fargus. Ol' Jack nodded in agreement. "So boy, 'ow old are ye?"

"I don't-"

"Remember," finished Fargus, "right, right. Well then do ye know how to fight? We found this axe next to ye, an' we fig'ered it was yers," he said holding up Dan's axe.

A brief flash of a memory, a knight with orange armour, raced through Dan's head. What did it mean?

"Yeah, that's mine," said Dan, taking the axe. Maybe holding it would bring back more memories.

While Dan was mulling that over, Fargus spoke.

"Well then me bucko, I have a bit of a proposition for ye. Seein' as how we're a bit short-staffed, and you've no memory of yer past, how'd ye like to join me crew aboard the Davros?" he asked, a broad smile on his face. "You've got t' understand though, the business we're in, 'tis a bit risky. High turnover, ye know."

"You're pirates, aren't you!" gasped Dan, the pieces clicking together.

They both started laughing.

"Har, yer sharp as a dart mate. There's no foolin' 'im Jack; we'd better come clean. We be pirates, true 'nuff, but we ain't just any pirates ye see. The Davros is the most feared vessels that's ever sailed these here seas. Ye won't find a finer crew on any ship. So's 'afore ye say no mate-"

"Yes," said Dan, cutting Fargus off. "I don't know who I am, or where I was going, but I figure signing up with you seems to be my best bet Fargus."

"That'll be Cap'n Fargus now matey. But we still have one more problem. Ye need a name, me bucko. Ol' Jack, any ideas?"

"'Ow about Dart, on account of 'is bein' as sharp as one?" offered the old pirate.

"Hmm. Dart ye say? It has a certain ring t' it, I'll admit. What say you boy? Yea or nay?"

"I like it," said Dan with a smile.

A huge grin came over Fargus' face.

"Har, in that case, I christen you Dart. Welcome aboard matey!"

"Dart," said Dart, rolling the word over his tongue.

"Jack, head up above decks an' tell the boys that we set sail at once. Oh yeah, an' tell 'em we've got a new member. This calls for a celebration!"

* * *

Wil sat on the wharf, his legs dangling above the water, watching the early morning sun rise. In the distance a ship sailed out of the harbour, a stiff breeze filling its sails.

Dan had been gone for a whole day now. Wil hadn't taken him seriously when Dan had said he was leaving. He had just assumed that Dan would come crawling back eventually, and apologise for insulting their dream. Well, his dream, at least, thought Wil. If Dan wanted to spend the rest of his life tilling soil, that was his choice. Good riddance anyway.

Wil stood up and stretched. If Dan had headed home, then there was no point in sticking around here. Wil had given up on joining a ship's crew. He would set out from Badon by foot. He wasn't sure where he would go. Anywhere but home, he figured. He started walking. Perhaps he would head north. He had heard great stories about the mercenaries of Ilia; maybe he could sign up with them.

Whatever path he decided follow, it would be one hundred times more exciting than Dan's life. Of that, Wil was sure.


	3. Chapter 3: Wil Flies Solo

Author's Note: So now that Dart and Wil have split up, I think what I'll do is alternate between their stories, one chapter at a time. If all goes according to plan, I might even carry this all the way until it intersects with the game's story line. We'll see though. For now, here's chapter three. It follows Wil, now that he's all by his lonesome. Enjoy.

Chapter 3: Wil Flies Solo

Wil was lost. He had left Badon heading north, in the hopes of reaching the distant country of Ilia, but soon realised that he had no idea where he was going.

Which was why Wil was very relieved when he stumbled upon a small village nestled in the hills.

He approached the first person he saw, a bent old man.

"Excuse me, sir? Could I ask you a question?" Wil asked politely.

The old man gave a Wil a once over before nodding.

"Sure sonny. Ask away."

"Would this road take me to Ilia?" he asked, pointing north.

The old man followed Wil's arm, and thought hard before answering.

"Ilia ye say? Well now, I suppose it would. Take ye awhile it would, but yeah, it'd get ye there," he answered, stroking his short beard. "If ye don't mind me askin' though, what business would a young fella such as yourself have up in Ilia?" asked the old man, staring inquisitively at Wil.

"Well you see sir, I want to become a mercenary, and I hear that Ilia is famous for that."

The old man started chuckling.

"What's so funny?" asked Wil, a little annoyed. Who was he to laugh at my dream, thought Wil.

"You're a funny one sonny boy. Sure, Ilia's got some famous mercenaries, but they ain't what ye think. They're all wimen, if ye can believe it."

"What...?" said Wil, surprised by what he had heard.

The old man continued to laugh.

"All the men folk up there are good for is plowing the frozen fields. Now, if you're serious 'bout being a mercenary, listen closely son. Head east for Bern is what ye should do. They're always looking fine young fellows like yerself."

"I see. Thank you for your help sir. I'll make my way to Bern then."

"I take it by yer bow that ye fancy yerself an archer do ye?" he asked looking at the bow slung around Wil's shoulder. "Mind if I take a quick look?"

Wil unslung his small bow and handed it to the old man, smiling sheepishly.

"It's not much..."

The old man examined the bow carefully before looking up at Wil disbelievingly.

"Tell me you're not serious, sonny! Ye can't go off to be a mercenary with that tiny thing! They'd eat ye alive."

Wil stared at his shoes in silence.

"Look boy. Come with me. I run the local armoury. I'll set ye up good."

Wil followed him up the dusty path to a small store with a faded wooden sign labelled, "Armoury". The store's small exterior proved misleading, as Wil gasped when he walked inside. The building was packed to the rafters with killing devices of every imaginable kind. There were axes, swords, maces, spears, more axes, armour, and most importantly, bows and arrows.

The old man led Wil to the back of the shop and picked up an exquisite looking bow from the rack. It was a beautiful piece, more art than bow, really, thought Wil to himself.

"Here, feel this one. As light as a feather, but strong as an ox, that one is. She'll serve you well. Crafted by the finest Lycian bow makers, that was."

Wil took the bow in hand. He weighed it in his hand and marvelled. He plucked the bowstring. Taut, but not too taut.

"It's incredible," gasped Wil. "But, um... there's one small problem."

"What's that?" asked the old man inquisitively.

"I, uh, don't actually have any money to pay for it..." Wil smiled weakly.

"I see," said the old man, his smile disappearing as he took the bow back and placed it gently on the rack. "Why didn't you say so before?" He rummaged around in some nearby boxes before emerging with a smaller, cheaper looking bow.

"How 'bout this then? It's not as fancy as the first one, sure, but it's still miles ahead of that toy on your shoulder. And sonny, just 'cause I like ye so much, I'll let you walk out of here without paying for it," the old man gave Wil a smile.

"Th-thank you," said Wil, grasping the old man's hand. "I won't forget this kindness you've shown me today."

"Ah, think nothin' of it sonny. You know, you remind a bit o' myself when I was yer age. All full of hopes and dreams. Now get out of here: It's a long road to Bern!"

Wil took the bow and a new quiver of arrows and ran out the door, but no t before shouting back:

"Thank you!"

Wil had put three days between him and Badon, before he conceded that he was once again lost. The path he had been following had started out heading east, of that he was sure. But for the past day or so, the path had been going through dense forest, with only a mere hint of sun peeping through foliage. Wil couldn't help but think that he was lost.

He was just about to turn back when he heard screams coming from just down the road. He rushed forward to find a band of six rogues surrounding a young woman, who couldn't have been older than Wil.

"Leave her alone!" yelled Wil, opening his mouth before he had a chance to think his plan through. He instantly regretted his decision, as they all turned to face Wil, wide grins on their faces.

"This don't concern you boy," snarled the leader, who looked strangely familiar to Wil. "Turn 'round afore it's too late!" The bandits broke out into laughter.

Wil gasped. It was Brago, the thief from the bridge.

"You don't remember me villain, but I have a score to settle with you," declared Wil, as he pulled an arrow onto his new bow.

A look of recognition came to Brago's face.

"Well I'll be damned boys. If it ain't the boy wiv the tiny arrers. This must be our lucky day."

"Yeah," chimed in one of his henchmen, "we'll fix 'im good, jus' like we fixed 'is friend!" they all started laughing again.

Wil didn't understand what he meant by that, or at least pretended not to.

"This is your last chance. Leave this place now, or I will slay you where you stand!"

"Ha, big words from such a small man. Get 'im!" yelled Brago.

The closest bandit to Wil rushed forward, but Will was ready. He released the arrow with a twang. It sailed forward, striking the oncoming attacker cleanly in the throat. The bandit collapsed with a gurgling scream, the lifeblood quickly draining from him.

Wil didn't stop to think about what he had just done. He pulled out another arrow and loosed it before the bandits realised what was happening. The bandit to Brago's right collapsed dead, an arrow protruding from his forehead.

Brago looked down at his fallen comrade and lost his nerve.

"Run!" he yelled, and took off in the opposite direction, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

But Wil wasn't about to let him get away. Wil sighted him along his arm. He took his time; there was no rush. He released the arrow and watched it soar forwards and catch the fleeing Brago square in the back of the neck. He heard the scream, and watched as Brago fell forwards, dead.

Wil lowered his bow. He didn't care about the others. They were nothing without their leader anyway.

"My hero!" gushed the newly rescued young woman. She rushed forward and embraced Wil. Wil was taken aback by it. He stepped back, blushing.

"It was nothing...really," he stammered. He had never been good around the ladies.

He looked at her now, for the first time really. She was petite, with long golden hair and bright green eyes.

Wil blushed again.

"Wh-what's your name?" he managed to stutter.

"My name's Vanessa," she said, looking away demurely.

"I'm Wil," he stated rather brusquely. He extended his hand, not knowing what else to do. She took it, and they shook hands rather awkwardly.

"Are you alright?" asked Wil, coming to his senses.

"I'm fine, now," she smiled at him. "That was so brave what you just did, standing up to them like that. You must be a real warrior."

"Well... I don't know about that," grinned Wil, starting to feel good about himself.

"And the way you took care of them, killing them as if it were nothing. I don't think I could ever do that."

Wil suddenly felt like he was going to be sick, as the full realisation of what he had just done hit him. He had taken a life. Not just one life, but three. He stared at the puddle of blood that surrounded the first bandit. How did that knight make it look so easy? Did everyone feel this way after they killed someone, or was it just him? Maybe he wasn't cut out for the mercenary-

"Wil? Wil, are you ok?" asked Vanessa, a look of concern coming over her face.

"I-I'm fine. Really. Just a little woozy, is all..."

"Oh, I know! My father's house is not ten minutes away. I'll take you there. You can rest up till you feel better."

She took him by the arm and led him away down the path. Wil followed meekly, too sick to put up a fight.


	4. Chapter 4: 'Tis the Pirate Life For Me

After a rather extended hiatus, the early adventures of Dart and Wil make a triumphant return. This chapter focuses on Dart's first days as a pirate. And another thing: I could write pirate dialogue all day long. Enjoy and review. Shiver me timbers matey!

* * *

**Chapter 4: 'Tis the Pirate Life For Me**

Dart sniffed at the steaming bowl of putrid looking gruel that the ship's cook had so graciously called "food". Dart was desperately hungry; he didn't know, and didn't remember the last time he had eaten. The spoon was half way to his mouth when he felt a hard slap on his back that almost sent him flying.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't the new boy!" came a booming voice from behind him.

Dart turned to find himself cornered against a wall by three burly pirates. The lead one stepped forward, a sly smile on his face.

"Allow me t'inroduce meself. The name's Flynn. Flyin' Flynn t' be precise," he offered a hand for Dart to shake. Flynn's grip was like a steel claw, and Dart winced in pain.

The grin returned to Flynn's face.

"Sorry matey. Dunno me own strength sometimes." The other two laughed at this. "Anywho, me'n me mates here couldn't help but notice that you weren't exactly takin' a shine to Cook's famous figgy puddin'."

"It's not that. It's just-"

"No need fer excuses matey. Takes some gettin' used to, fer sure. But if you weren't gonna finish it, we'd be more'n happy to take it off yer hands. Wouldn't we boys?" The other two nodded in agreement.

"Well..." said Dart, thinking it over, "if you really want it," he finished, offering the bowl.

"Hey! That's enough o' that Flynn," came a stern voice from behind them.

The three pirates turned to face the owner of the voice. He was a younger looking fellow, not much older than himself, Dart guessed. He wasn't as big or brawny as the other pirates Dart had seen, but he carried himself with a certain quite confidence that was hard to ignore.

"You know the cap'n's orders. You're to leave that new fella alone."

"Hah, Jake, why d' ye half to always ruin our fun? You and Collins, separated at birth I tell ya."

The three pirates wandered off, laughing to themselves.

"Don't mind them, they're 'armless, trust me," said Jake, giving Dart a warm smile. "You must be that Dart fellow, I'm Jake."

"Nice to meet you," replied Dart, politely.

"Hah. You from the country or somethin'? Don't hear that kind o' talk too often."

"I- I don't know. I can't really remember anything."

"So it's true then? That you can't remember nuthin?" Dart nodded. "Wow. An' here I thought the captain was just pullin' me leg a little." Jake scratched his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. "Well there's no use dwelling on the past anyway. What's done is done is done, as me mum used to say. Don't worry 'bout a thing Dart, I'll show you the ropes around here."

* * *

The first week aboard the Davros passed surprisingly quickly for Dart. He had gotten to the point where he could fully understand what his fellow sailors were saying and he had even picked up a few words himself.

Throughout that week Dart had seen very little of Fargus. As Jake explained to him, "The cap'n is a secretive man. He likes t' keep t' himself, locked up in 'is cabin, he does. Only tells us as much as we ought to know, no more, no less."

The ship's day to day activities were looked after by the ship's very capable first mate, Mr. Collins. He was the exact opposite of his shipmates. Where they were loud, boorish, and slovenly, he was quiet, reserved and tidy. He dressed well; his pants were sharply creased and his shoes always polished. He spoke very formally, not stooping to the uneducated banter of his crewmates. Dart heard rumours that Mr. Collins had once been a member of the Lycian Navy, but he always refused to talk about his past.

"Mr. Dart," said Collins one grey morning, "The captain has requested an audience with you. He is awaiting you presently."

"Th-thank you," mumbled Dart, finding it hard to meet the first mate's hard stare.

Dart entered the cabin, which was located at the back of the ship, and was immediately struck by the contrast. For all of Fargus' boasting, the Davros was actually quite unimpressive. It was dirty and seemingly covered in a perpetual layer of grime, which no amount of swabbing would ever remove. But the captain's quarters were another story altogether. The room was lit from the back by the large windows that offered a view of the retreating horizon. The chamber was carpeted with fine rugs and red silk curtains hung from the walls. Many fine pieces of art were scattered around the walls. Dart was admiring the quality of the silk when Fargus drew his attention to the centre of the room.

"Har, ye like what ye see, eh Dart?" Fargus was sitting behind a massive oak desk, am ornate quill in hand. "Those are jus' some o' the many benefits o' bein' a pirate cap'n," smiled Fargus.

"Is it- is it all stolen?"

Fargus turned serious.

"Let me tell ye somethin' boy. I never stole a penny from a man that didn't have it comin' to 'im. Remember that," he said, no trace of mirth in his eyes.

Dart merely nodded.

But then Fargus smiled, and it was as if nothing had happened. He speared an apple from a nearby bowl of fruit on his dagger and offered it to his newest crewmember.

Dart shook his head again.

"Suit yerself mate," shrugged Fargus and he took a bite from his skewered apple. "Now then," he continued, wiping apple juice from his beard with one of his massive forearms, "tell me Dart, how've things been? I'll admit, I haven't had much time t' show ye around." He took another bite.

"I'm fine cap'n. Jake's been showing me around."

"Jake ye say? Yer a good judge o' character mate, he's one o' me best." Fargus stood up, and began pacing the room, eventually coming to rest in front of the large windows at the back. "Now I s'pose you've been wonderin' what were doin' out here, eh? A week at sea, and not a sight of another ship? What kind o' lily livered pirates are we, eh?"

In fact Dart had been wondering that very thing. He had pressed Jake on the matter, but had been rebuffed in his search for answers with casual replies of "All in due time mate."

"It-it crossed my mind cap'n…"

"Har, that's good!" said Fargus, turning to face Dart. "I like inquisitiveness in me sailors. Now then, lissen close, cause what I'm about t' say's important," he said, turning serious again. "Have you ever heard of the Merchant Guild?"

Dart confessed his ignorance.

"Har, o' course ye don't. Ye don't even know yer own name. A silly question mate," apologized the captain. "The Merchant Guild is the feller's what's responsible fer shipping goods from Point A t' Point B, if ye know what I mean. Any trade ye want to do goes through them."

"Ok…"

"Let me finish boy. Now the thing with the Merchants is that they're corrupt as they come. Rotten to the core," he flung his apple core on to the table as emphasis. "Those buggers'd sell their own muvvers fer a few coins t' rub together."

"What does this have to do with us?"

"Patience boy, patience," he took a seat opposite Dart now. "Ye can talk t' Collins if'n ye like. Tha's where I picked 'im up from. Poor bloke, 'is conscious couldn't take workin' fer those merciless bastards."

An old saying floated into the back of Dart's head, something about a kettle and a pot.

"A pirate with a conscious?" laughed Dart, but his smile quickly faded when he met Fargus' eyes.

"Tis no laughin' matter Dart. I was serious when I said I've never stolen from a man what didn't deserve it. An' trust me boy, the Guild, they deserve it," Fargus slammed his fist on the table. Dart knew better than to open his mouth. "Have ye ever- har, tha's right. Look, t' the north, there's a land called Ilia. It's mighty cold up there; growing food up there's like pulling teeth, only less fun. Tis a hard life, an the folks o' Ilia rely on the Guild t' bring 'em enough food t' last the winter."

Dart nodded, trying to follow along. It was all a bit much.

"Course, what does the Guild do? The heartless bastards, they charge a arm an a leg fer the goods. An' the Ilians, well they ain't got much choice but to pay the money. Extortion, tha's what tha's called."

Dart couldn't help himself.

"But what does that have to do with us?"

"I'm getting there's ye mooncalf! Patience. Now, every year, bout this time, right afore winter sets in in earnest, the Guild ships come headin' back, loaded down with their ill gotten gains. An' that Dart, an' that is where the Davros comes in," Fargus gave Dart a big gold toothed smile. "It's just our way of balancin' the universe, if ye know what I mean."

Dart wasn't sure that he did, but he nodded anyway.

"Any day now bucko, we'll come across a fat little Guild galley, stuffed to the brim full o' gold an' jewels, ripe fer the pickin'. Any day now…"

* * *

Fargus had not been lying. Barely a day had past before the call to arms had gone up. The sailors, who had been waiting about aimlessly, suddenly sprung to life. Steel flashed all about Dart as the pirates readied to go to work.

Fargus burst out of his cabin still placing his wide brimmed hat a top his head, Collins in tow.

"Avast matey," shouted Fargus up to the pirate perched a top the crow's nest, "What d' ye see lad?"

"T' starberd cap'n, tis a guild ship!" the lookout shouted down.

Fargus removed a small, brass telescope from within his breast pocket and looked out for himself.

"Har! She's the real deal buckos! Smithey," he turned to the man at the helm behind him, "set a course a hard starboard. There ain't no ship alive what could outsail the Davros on the open sea!"

Dart found himself left behind in all the commotion. He stared hard into the distance where the ship should have been, but could see nothing. It was a perfect day, blue skies above, and yet he found that he couldn't see what the commotion was about.

Jack appeared suddenly at his side.

"Excited mate?" he asked smiling in anticipation.

"I- I can't see anything out there," Dart admitted sheepishly.

"Can't see nuthin'? What're you, blind mate? Out there, clear as day mate," he said, pointing out in to the distance. Dart followed Jack's arm out to sea. Was that it in the distance, that little smudge? It didn't seem like much too get excited about.

The Davros barrelled down on the smudge on the horizon, and as they got closer and closer, Dart realised that it was indeed a ship, though an odd looking one. Of course, Dart had not seen too many ships in his day, actually, the Davros was the only ship he had ever seen. Either way, the ship that would soon be plundered was nothing like Fargus'. It was long and low in the water, no doubt due to the cargo, and had only one mast sticking out from the middle. But it had dozens and dozens of long spindly sticks jutting out from the sides.

"Oars, matey. That's what they're called," said Jack, answering Dart's question. "You paddle the boat with them. I know mate, don't make no sense t' me neither That ship's called a galley, they ain't built fer speed."

As they got closer and closer Dart noticed another odd thing, not about the ship itself, but about who was on the ship. Or, more precisely, who wasn't on the ship. From that far out, Dart could only make out three or four figures standing on the deck.

"Tha's probably on account that they're just gonna surrender," said Jack, answering Dart's next question. "These guild types, they ain't stupid mate. They know when they've lost. Most of the time, they just stand aside while we do our thing."

The Davros closed the distance between them agonizingly slowly for Dart. The galley had come to a stop, the merchants obviously wanting to get this transaction over as fast as possible. The two ships finally drew abreast, and Dart could see clearly those four foolish figures for the first time.

The first figure was a tall, broad shouldered man. He wore a full beard, which was slowly turning a very distinguished silver. His clothes were clearly of the finest quality, and he wore a blood red cloak over his shoulders. A worldly grin played over his face, slightly unnerving Dart. Next to him was a much younger man, possibly his son, for they bore a certain resemblance. He too wore fine looking garments, but across his face was a look of sheer defiance. From behind the first man, the face of a young boy, a look of terror splashed over his visage, kept darting out. Dart realised that the youngster was clutching onto his father's leg for dear life. The fourth figure was a soldier, well armed, but infinitely outnumbered.

It was Fargus who broke the silence, his booming voice bridging the gap between the two ships.

"Ahoy there, Germanus, it's been too long," he called out, addressing the lead merchant.

"Ahh, my dear friend, Fargus. The pleasure is all yours, I assure you. How long has it been? Ages, it would seem" replied Germanus in a deep, rich voice, seemingly unconcerned at the thought of his goods being carried off by pirates.

"Approachin' three years, iffen I'm not mistaken," said Fargus, and his pirate crew roared with laughter.

"Hmm, yes. I seem to recall you scuttled my ship that time, which I remember thinking was most unnecessary."

"Har, 'twas all in good fun mate, nuthin' personal. Now, t'matters of business, which should be more t'yer taste. Here's me proposal: Me bouyos here carry all the gold they can carry off yer ship, an' you sit there an watch," more laughter from the pirates, "and if yer extra good, I might just leave ye wiv yer ship intact. How's that fer a deal?"

Germanus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You drive a hard bargain Fargus, as always. I see no reason to object to your proposition. My ship is your ship."

The youth at his side, who had barely contained his anger up until then, exploded now.

"How dare you dirty thieves talk to my father like that! Do you know who he is? He's one of the wealthiest merchants in the Guild, and you, and you scum aren't worthy to lick his boots!"

Dart could hear muttering all around him from the Davros' crew. Fargus stepped up again, "Germanus, ye'd better slap a muzzle on yer whelp, lest one me crew takes his tongue as a trophy."

Germanus smiled, and placed a hand on his son's heaving chest.

"Hush, Geese, there will be time for that later. Take Geitz below decks, I have important matters to discuss with the pirate captain."

Geese nodded slowly, and taking the young child behind Germanus by the hand, headed below.

"Alrighty then boys, over we go!" yelled Fargus. At his signal, ladders and grapples spanned the divide between the two ships. The pirates dashed across eagerly, and Dart found himself being swept across with them.

But Dart had barely taken two steps onto the new ship, when he heard shouts coming from the hatch that led below decks. He looked over to see armed soldiers, trained mercenaries every one of them, spilling out onto the deck. The closest pirates, still in shock, we're cut down easily, but Fargus' crew hadn't made it that far by being slow on the uptake, and an all out battle quickly ensued. What the pirates lacked in weapons and armour, they more than made up for in heart.

Dart didn't know what to do. He drew his axe, but besides a few basic lessons, had no idea what to do with it. The battle raged on around him; he saw Fargus, seemingly a giant among men, fell two men with a single sweep of his axe. Germanus was no where to be found.

Suddenly, Dart found Flynn at his side, panting heavily, his axe smeared with blood. He gave Dart a wild-eyed grin.

"So, how d'ye like yer first battle mate? Exhilarating, innit?" he laughed a great laugh, before leaping back into the fray.

Dart kept his eyes on Flynn, watching him dispatch a mercenary with a blow to the head. But coming from behind, Dart noticed another soldier, sword at the ready, sneaking up on Flynn. Dart sprang into action, relying more on instinct and adrenaline than anything else. The next thing he knew, he was extracting his axe from the corpse of a recently deceased soldier. Flynn turned to find Dart, trying to pull his weapon free, and gave another great laugh.

"Har, is tha' number one fer ye matey? Congrats, the first one's always the most fun, if ye ask me." He gave Dart a great slap on the back. Dart, who had already been feeling woozy at the sight of his bloodied axe, collapsed in an unconscious heap.


	5. Chapter 5:Dainty Dart and the Dread Isle

Hey, long time no see. Dart&Wil are back, after another extended hiatus. This chapter is still on Dart, because... well, because I saw Pirates of the Caribbean the other day. I'm just trying to cash in onthe Pirate love-fest is all.So you can thank Johnny Depp for this chapter. The next chapter will be about Wil, though. Pinky swear.

Oh, and writing pirate dialogue is so much fun, I could write pages and pages of the stuff.

Har matey, so'ere's 'opin' ye enjoy the story, an' don' ferget t' review, lest ye feelparticularly keen on walkin' the plank. Savvy?

**Chapter 5: Dainty, Darling Dart and the Dread Isle**

Dart woke up coughing and sputtering, his mouth on fire. He heard a round of laughter around him.

"Our delicate Dart lives!" came a cry, followed by more laughter.

"Wha… what's going on?" mumbled a dazed Dart, managing to hoist himself to his feet. He looked around him in bewilderment. He could only make out blurry shapes around him. He rubbed his eyes, and the world slowly came back into focus.

"Ha, you had bit of a nappy, my dainty, darlin' Dart," laughed the pirate in front of Dart. The lines sharpened, forming Flynn's ugly figure. "Luckily, there ain't no ailment on the seven seas wot can't be cured wit wyvern whiskey," he shouted, brandishing a grimy, half-empty bottle, which he took a swig from. More laughter from the pirates around him.

Dart took the time to look around him. He was back on the deck of the Davros, and the galley was nowhere to be seen. They were moving a long at a brisk pace, and most of the pirates were drunk.

"Tell me again Darty, why'd the cap'n let you on this vessel again? Certainly twasn't for yer fightin' skills, was it? Cause if Fargus be lowerin' 'is standards, I got a sister or two wot would love to sign up. Ahahaha."

Dart stood there in silence, trying to keep his composure. What could he possibly say? Flynn was right. What kind of pirate was he? Couldn't even kill a man without passing out.

Dart's train of thought was broken as the door to Fargus' cabin flung open. Mr. Collins stepped out, adjusting hat, followed by Fargus. The pirates, who had formed a menacing circle around Dart, instantly whirled around to face their captain.

Fargus started talking, oblivious to the conflict that he had inadvertently averted.

"Mates, we lost some fine men back there," he said solemnly, and a few pirates muttered 'Aye' in agreement, "but let no man say we didn't give as good as we got!" The crew met this with a rousing cheer. "Those merchant dogs will think twice afore they try t' cross Cap'n Fargus and the Davros again!" The pirates erupted in another round of drunken cheers.

"Now, to matters of money," interjected Mr. Collins, which did a great job of silencing the crowd, "we have divided the spoils accordingly, and each crew member shall of course share in it equally."

"Wot about dainty Dart? He surely don't get a full share," said Flynn, indignantly.

"As a member of the crew, Mr. Dart is entitled to his fair share, same as everybody else, Mr. Flynn."

"Fair share?" said another pirate, the left side of his head wrapped in a bloody bandage, "He didn't even do nuffing!"

"Yeah!" joined in another, "He spent the whole fight sleepin'!"

"Saw 'im wif me own eyes I did!" said yet another.

"Tha's enough o' that!" boomed Fargus, stepping forward, his hand placed on the handle of his sword. "Dart's a member o' this crew, so you mooncalves 'ad better get comfortable with that."

"But cap'n-" said one brave sailor.

Fargus' sword whipped out, coming within an inch of the pirates nose.

"Stow it ye scum suckin' wad o' putrid filth, lest ye fancy a meetin' wit Davy Jones afore yore time." Fargus sheathed his sword, and turned to the crowd. "Anyone else think they can decide how the Davros is run?"

"Cap'n, all we is sayin', is that Darty over there ain't done nuthin' to earn his spot on this ship. Why should he get t' share in the spoils?"

Mr. Collins jumped in before Fargus could respond.

"Mr. Flynn, I would suggest that now would be an appropriate time to stop talking. The captain has made it abundantly clear that Mr. Dart has a place on board this ship. However, if you continue to let your mouth get away from you like that, you may find your own place here in question."

"Har, ye heard the first mate. The next one wot questions Dart's place here will answer directly t' my steel, d' ye all savvy?" There were scattered nods among the gathered crew. "Now get away, the lot o' ye. Ain't there work t' be done?"

The crowd cleared, leaving Dart standing with his back to the main mast, staring sheepishly at Fargus.

"Thank you Cap'n, I-"

"Tisn't in me job description t' be babystittin' ye lad, remember that," growled Fargus, clearly annoyed.

Dart stood speechless, not expecting Fargus' ire.

"I ain't about t' risk mutiny over ye Dart. I like ye, I do, but ye ain't worth a whole crew.

"I'm sorry cap'n."

"Don't be sorry lad, just don' let it 'appen again. I expect ye to shape up or ship out"

"I won't disappoint you!" said Dart snapping a smart salute.

"Har," chuckled the old captain, "yer a good man Dart. Ye might be cut out fer the pirate life after all."

"Thank you Cap'n!"

"Oh, and Dart, there ain't any need for none o' that salutin' business. I don't know what kind o' ship ye think this is."

"Oh, right."

"Now, if yer lucky, we'll soon find ourselves another Guild ship, an' then you can show me crew that ye belong 'ere," said Fargus with a fatherly smile. "Til then, ain't there a deck t' be swabbed? Get t' work!"

"Right Cap'n!"

* * *

"Stop worryin' yer little head mate, ain't worth thinking about," said Jake languidly, rocking slowly in his hammock.

"I'm just saying, for my first time, it couldn't have gone worse." They were below decks, both in their respective hammocks.

"Do ye think anyone else is perfect on their first raid? Of course not."

"So you passed out your first time?"

"Well, actually, come t' think of it, I did quite well meself," Jake chuckled. "But, I mean, more generally speakin', nobody gets it right their first time around."

"Nobody faints either!" said Dart, indignantly.

"Hah, c'mon that was a little funny," Jake cracked a grin, "Just a little bit. No?"

But Jake never found out Dart's opinion on the matter. A call to arms sounded from above, and both men were quickly on their feet.

"Well, here's yer chance mate. Try keepin' both feet on the ground this time," winked Jake.

They emerged onto the sunny deck, the ship a swirl of activity. The sails were open and the Davros was skipping along at top speed, bearing down on dark ship slightly to port. The two made a beeline for the captain.

"What d'ye mean there's nobody on the ship!" snapped an exasperated Fargus, snatching the eyelglass from his first mate. "If'n there's nobody on board, who, pray tell, is steerin' 'er?"

"I only report what I see, Captain. Look for yourself, I think you will agree."

"Well I'll be… what manner of devilry is this?" said Fargus, slowly lowering the telescope.

"Tis a ghost ship!" cried one nearby pirate, earning himself a sharp cuff from his captain.

"Belay that talk, ye lily livered worm. Tis no such thing as ghost ships!" barked Fargus. "Naught but stories t' scare silly sailors what can't tell truth from tales."

"But they're true Cap'n!" said another pirate, jumping in. "I saw one wit me own eyes when I was wit the _Gamot_. I swears it!"

"Pffaw. Let me guess lad, twas none other than the Flyin' Dutchman? Stow it." The pirates burst out laughing, silencing the voice of dissent. "I'll hear no more talk o' ghost ships, else some man jack feels like getting acquainted with the cat-o-nine-tails." Silence. "Now then lads, tis clear this is naught but some sort o' trick, a poor one at that. T' will take more 'n that t' shake the Davros." The crew cheered.

"Back to your stations men," said Mr. Collins, taking charge. "You know the drill. Mr. Flynn, have your Suicide Squad ready for action. Oh, and Mr. Dart, If you should at any time feel at all frightened, don't hesitate to have a little sit down. We don't want you passing out on us again."

Dart fumed silently, as the nearby pirates laughed.

The Davros continued to pursue the mystery ship, but even going as fast as she could not seem to close the gap. Dart took up a position near the front, where he could over hear the captain and the first mate talking.

"What in the name of St. Elimine!" cursed Fargus, standing at the fore. "On the open seas, no ship is a match fer the Davros!"

Gradually, the once blue sky began to cloud over, until quite suddenly the sun was gone. More ominously, a great fog began to roll over the ship, covering everything in a layer of wispy white. The mystery vessel took on a now ethereal appearance draped in shimmering mist, and whispers began to circulate through the crew.

"Captain," started Mr. Collins.

"I don't want to hear it Collins! We ain't giving in t' these mooncalves. Ain't no ship has ever survived once the Davros set 'er sight on it, and tha's a streak I intend to maintain. Any questions?"

"I only feel that the crew may not perhaps share in your idealism, sir. Sailors are a suspicious lot, and even you must admit Captain, this does not bode well."

"You too Collins? I thought you were above that kind o' junk. Ye know full well there ain't no ghost ships floatin' about, and that this is naught but a cheap parlour trick."

"Perhaps Captain, but this fog also makes navigation doubly difficult. There is the risk that, sailing blind, we may find-"

"Rocks!" came a panicked shout from the crows nest. Sure enough, dozens of craggy rocks materialized in the dense fog, their sharp teeth inviting the Davros to land on them.

"Hard t' starboard!" shouted Fargus gripping the railing in desperation. "Steady now lads, else we're dashed t' pieces!"

The Davros' quarry slipped into the fog, seemingly unperturbed by the imminent danger surrounding it. Fargus cursed loudly and passionately, slamming his fist on the gunwales.

"Ye know what, I'm startin' to come around. 'Twas no earthly presence what could summon that fog and sail through the crags like they weren't there."

"Some things are better left unknown Captain."

"Har," said Fargus, stroking his beard, "we'll turn around I s'pose. Tisn't worth riskin' the Davros in these waters."

"Ay Captain. I'll spread the order. We've spent enough time here, wherever here is."

"Ye don't know where we are then?" said a wizened voice, and the hunched figure of Ol' Jack materialised in the fog.

"And you do?" asked Mr. Collins, not trying to hide his contempt.

"I do lad. We're but a stone throw from the Dread Isle," Jack said.

A number of sailors who had been pretending to work, gasped out loud at the mention of the name. Dart looked about himself quizzically. It meant nothing to him.

"Har, are ye sure greybeard? Tis is no laughing matter," said Fargus sternly.

"I'd swear on me mudder's grave," he responded solemnly.

"If he's right…" Mr. Collins trailed off.

"If he's right, then we would do well t' remove ourselves from this position, wouldn't ye say?"

Mr. Collins, now visibly shaken, merely nodded.

"Ye can check yer charts Cap'n, but tha' ship led us straight t' Valor."

"I don't like this Collins, ghost ships leading us t' the Dread Isle? Something ain't right here."

"Ye know wot they say 'bout t' Dread isle, Cap'n."

"Course I know the stories Jack! Don't mean I believe 'em," he said dismissively. "Ar, I've changed me mind. I'm startin' t' think that twas no phantom ship after all. Mayhaps they were some smugglers wot has found themselves the perfect hideaways?"

"Maybe Cap'n," said Mr. Collins, looking about nervously, "but this hardly the time to start investigating."

"But think of it Collins! What if we had a whole island t' ourselves? A pirate paradise t' would be! Har, t' would no longer be cap'n, but King Fargus. Har, a man could get used t' tha."

"Really Captain, that is fascinating but-"

"Yar, if yer too scared, Collins, tha's all ye have t' say. We'll leave the Dread Isle fer another day.

* * *

It was only till later that night, with the Dread Isle far in the distance, that Dart was able to get any answers. Whispering to Jake, he asked, "That place today, the Dread Isle, why was everyone so scared of it? I thought pirates weren't afraid of anything."

Jake, raised himself off his hammock, where he had been trying to sleep, and glanced both ways before meeting Dart's eyes in the semi-darkness.

"Mate," he said seriously, "any man would 'ave a healthy respect fer the Dread Isle if'n he 'ad heard the stories."

"Stories?"

"Aye, the stories!" said a pirate lying to Dart's right, now sitting up, a strange gleam in his eye.

"Bargan, now ain't the time fer ghost stories," Jake admonished, "Let the lad sleep."

"Har, but 'e don't even know 'bout the Dread Isle! An' he wants t' be a pirate."

"Aye, I've heard tell of an army o' the undead, who wander the island lookin' fer fresh brains t' feed on!" said another pirate, throwing his two cents in.

"Ar, ye've got it all wrong Mungo, tain't zombie's on the island, but 'orrible beasties what eat human flesh. Half-man, half-vulture, half-wolf, they're a right terrible sight!" said Bargan, fervently.

"Don't be daft man! Ye can't 'ave tree halves," scoffed another pirate. "'Sides, everyone knows that the island's haunted by the ghosties. 'Orrible, 'orrible ghoulies wot pluck the eyeballs out of men 'n feed 'em to the birds!"

"Yer all a bunch o' gullible ninnies. Ghosts an' monsters, don' make me laugh. Any sailor wit half a brain knows that wot's really on tha' island is actually-"

Dart never found out what really prowled the island's shores, because he drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of pirates arguing.


End file.
